


Go To Hell

by traumschwinge



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Going to Hell, Legends, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumschwinge/pseuds/traumschwinge
Summary: Prince Erik desperately wants to avoid getting married. At least to any of the princesses his mother has in mind. So in his desperation he turns to a fortuneteller. Too bad the only solution she could come up with is that he will find his solution in hell. So Erik finds his way there. Because he'd rather go to hell than actually marry a princess.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Logan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33
Collections: X-Men Rare Pairs 2020





	Go To Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [milosdinosaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/milosdinosaur/pseuds/milosdinosaur) in the [xmenrarepairs20](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmenrarepairs20) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> "Go to hell."
> 
> _This got out of hand._

“Go to hell.”

Erik took a double take. “What?”

“The cards say, go to hell,” the fortune-teller repeated flatly. She was decidedly unimpressed. “Not figuratively,” she sighed. “Literally. The cards never lie. You asked how to both avoid the unwanted marriage and save your claim to your throne. A complex question requiring a complex spread to answer.” She gestured over the table between them. “But the answer in this complexity is quite simple. You, Prince Erik, will have to travel to hell for your solution.”

With a sigh, Erik leaned back. “This leads only to more questions. Like how do I even get to hell? Or what I should look for once I get there?”

The candles went out, leaving the tent in a low gloom. “This is all the questions I am able to answer today.”

Erik glowered at her. There was no more help forthcoming. Glowering didn’t help either. He had no choice but to get up and leave.

Just as he pulled the tent flap back, the fortune-teller cleared her throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Begrudgingly, Erik pulled a couple of coins from his pouch. He floated them over to the fortune-teller. 

“ _Thank you,_ ” the fortune-teller enunciated. “And, by the way, you might want to start looking for more answers in the royal library. Magic and legends section.”

~*~

Locating the part of the library with the heathen legends and somewhat magic books took Erik almost an hour. He’d never been this deep in the library, long past the history tomes—his favorites—and printed novels—a close second. He’d gone past treatises on Mathematics and alchemy. There had been spiderwebs and dust mice guarding the shelves.

He held the candle just close enough to make out the titles. There were no titles mentioning hell, but he found a slim book of woodprints with images of that heathen place, full of flames and pain. From the tiny descriptions on the backs of the prints he got to more keywords he could search for. The candle was burning steadily while he skimmed books, putting some on a stack to take back with him, putting most of them back into their shelves again. At last, when the sputtering candle reminded him that he would need to turn back soon, he came across a leather bound books with magical signs and circles on the cover. It mentioned the creation of portals and connections to hell. It looked like just the thing he’d been looking for.

He spent the rest of the week reading every other book he’d taken from the library, saving the magic tome for last. It wasn’t easy. He had to dodge his mother frequently. Most of the time, he was hiding in barely used rooms, only resorting to a retreat to the attics when he was desperate. That meant, mostly, when his mother had invited yet another duchess and her daughters to the castle. Erik loathed the tea. He loathed the small tale. He wanted to hate the finger food, too, but in all truth it was still delicious as anything the kitchens produced.

His preparations took another day. He needed to charme the cook for provisions. He snuck his leather armor out of the armory, as well as a sword. His usual dagger remained close to his person at all time. After he’d changed into the armor and strapped on his sword in an empty attic, he carefully drew the magic circle described in the book on the floor. It took some time to reproduce it exactly. When the circle was completed, he put a clear crystal in the middle. Then, he added candles which he lit as described in the book. Finally, he said the incantation. The crystal glowed and then the candles snuffed out. Erik picked the crystal up, securing it like a pendant around his neck. It would be his way home, when he was done in hell.

The next, final step was the portal. He painstakingly drew it on the floor, reciting the incantation as he went. The portal spell was even more complicated, demanding oils and water in addition to the candles. The circle blazed as Erik chanted the final verse of the spell, brighter and brighter, blinding. Erik closed his eyes as he shouted the last word over the rush of air in his ears. 

Smoke filled his lungs when he regained his senses. The air around him was hotter than the heart of summer. He was lying face down on ground covered in ash and soot. Coughing, he pushed himself up and looked around.

The air was full of wails. Everywhere he looked, the world was nothing but shades of black and gray and sickly red. He was standing at the bottom of a hollow. There was a path out, between the sharp rocks and sheer walls. He had no other choice but to take it. He drew his sword for comfort.

Outside the hollow, there was a barren wasteland as far as the eye could see. Again, there was a layer of dust on the ground, blown to dunes in places by the ghostly wind. Erik picked a direction at random and started walking.

After what felt like hours, he spotted the outline of woods at the horizon. Another hour later, he could make out individual trees. They were all black and leafless, creaking in the wind and adding to the omnipresent noise. The bare branches had grown in twisted shapes, impossible in any living tree. As he drew closer, he noticed the smell of rotting plants. The dust gave way to decomposing grass. 

Erik pulled his shirt up over his nose to keep being able to breathe.

The inside of the forest was less red than the ashen wasteland had been, but made up for it in dark greens and noxious gasses. He kept close to the edge of the forest, not wanting to get lost inside. There were occasional paths leading into the forest, beckoning him, but he refused to let himself be tempted. It didn’t help his resolve that he could hear cries for help down those paths. Erik walked until his feet would carry him no more, never meeting a single soul. There was no day or night in this place so he didn’t know when he sat down and closed his eyes, for what was meant to be just a moment. 

Hands grabbing him by the shoulders woke Erik. On instinct, he jerked his head forward, connecting with someone. The hands disappeared from his shoulders. Erik didn’t wait to find out what he’d crushed to cause the cursing. He scrambled to his feet and started running. The cursing picked up behind him. He heard boots stomping behind him, so he picked up speed. It didn’t help. Mere moments later, he was tackled to the ground.

“Damn it, hold still,” the man atop of him growled. At least he sounded like a man, not like what Erik imagined a demon to sound. Erik’s hands were wrestled behind his back and tied together. “The fuck are you even doing here? You’re not dead and you don’t smell like a demon.”

Erik was roughly turned around and came face to face with a wild looking man. Blood was running from his nose. He’d probably shaven at some point but his beard was as ungroomed as his hair. He was wearing armor like Erik hadn’t ever seen outside history books. Come to think of it, his face also looked like something he’d seen in a history book, even though Erik couldn’t quite remember where.

The man did a double take at Erik. “Wha- fuck. What’re you… Since when are you in hell? I was searching for you for centuries!” The man shook Erik.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Erik struggled against his bonds. “Who even are you?”

The man frowned. “Magnus, don’t you remember me?”

“Magnus?” Erik didn’t squeak the name. He hoped he didn’t. Magnus was the name of the founder of his parent’s kingdom, back in the mists of time before written history.

The man frowned. He sniffed at Erik. “Who are you?” he growled.

“I asked first,” Erik snapped back.

The man smirked. He picked Erik up despite protests and slung him over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. “We can talk later,” the man said, ignoring Erik’s struggling. “First, we’ll have to make sure no demon finds you.”

~*~

Erik kept silent while he was carried. He’d screamed, but when that and kicking his captor had no effect at all, he resorted to sulking. The moment he’d was left to use his hands, he’d use the crystal and disappear and until then, he wouldn’t say another word. Not even to ask any questions that’d help him figure out who his captor was. He was sure he’d seen that face before. There weren’t that many people from the age of the kingdom’s founding important enough to have drawings or paintings of them survive. Come to think of it, there were only two, Magnus the First and…

A gasp escaped Erik.

“You alright?” his captor asked.

Erik pressed his lips together. He had just figured it out. Not a moment would he consider talking to this man. He’d been the sworn enemy of Magnus. Or still was. He felt like a living being, even though he should have been dead for centuries. Even if he hadn’t died in battle against Magnus, as history told it, no man could live this long.

“Hey.” The man jostled Erik a little, trying to prompt a reaction that wasn’t coming. “I asked you something.”

“I’m not talking to _you,_ James the Wolverine,” Erik grumbled.

James laughed. “Oh, so you do know who I am. I actually prefer Logan to that stupid court name.”

“Logan,” Erik repeated flatly.

“Yeah, James the Wolverine is the name Maggy gave me. More… how did he put it… court appropriate.” He shrugged the shoulder he wasn’t carrying Erik on. “I forbid him to call me that in private, ever. He’d always use it in fights, though.”

Erik waited for a moment if there was more coming. When nothing did, he asked, “Were you and Magnus… close?”

“ _Close_?” Logan laughed. “We were. We used to be. We’re not anymore since he… since I ended up here.” He walked a bit in silence, before he asked: “So, you… you look a lot like him. You’re not related or something?”

Erik frowned at the ground behind them. “He was my great-great-great… you get the idea… great-grandfather. The first ancestor of my lineage. Centuries ago. I don’t get how you even knew him.” The light changed, although Erik couldn’t see much of the room they had reached from his vantage point. He was put down on a bed, covered in furs of strange animals, but not untied. Logan looked at him with a strange expression.

“Centuries,” Logan echoed.

“Probably more than a millenium, even,” Erik said testily. He had not liked being carried and he liked being bound on a bed even less.

Logan cursed low under his breath. “So he’s long dead, huh, kid?” He sat down heavy on the bed, making Erik jump a little. “Damn, I’ve been in this place for too long. But I can’t leave. I can’t die. I just… keep on keeping on.” He sighed. “And I’m tired. So, so tired.”

“I’m not yielding the bed to you.” Despite his words, Erik moved as far away from Logan as the narrow room on the bed allowed.

Logan smirked at him. “You don’t have much of a choice there, bub. Share or sleep on the floor.”

“You’re not even feeding me dinner first?”

Logan’s barking laugh shook the bed. “Here’s a bit of advice: don’t eat anything in a strange fairytale land. Especially not when you’re offered some.”

“I brought my own,” Erik sulked. “In the satchel. Untie me so I can eat.”

Logan squinted at him. “Smart. But… no. I’m not gonna untie you. Who knows what you’d get up to.”

“It’s not like I could go anywhere,” Erik lied. He just prayed that Logan didn’t know what the crystal around his neck was for. Still, better to switch topics. “Hey, how did you end up in hell?”

Logan shifted subtly. Then, he shrugged. “Pissed off the wrong guy. Got banned here. Can’t leave until…” He sighed. “Can’t ever leave. ‘Cuz I don’t want to fulfill the condition.”

“Hm.” Erik wasn’t quite sure he knew what to say to that. It seemed he’d picked the wrong topic. “Tell me about Magnus.”

“Great man. Great friend. Horrible enemy,” Logan sighed. “Now, how did you manage to come here?”

“Magic circle.” Erik saw no point in lying.

“Really? You _meant_ to go to hell? Why the fuck would you want to go to hell?” Logan shook his head.

Erik smiled briefly. “To avoid marriage. Looks like I managed, because I can’t marry any princess while you hold me captive.”

Logan gaped at him for a moment before he could pull himself together again. He barked another laugh. “Brilliant. Just brilliant. Magnus was just like that. Half-cooked plans. Action before thought. Brilliant but too impulsive for his own good.”

“I do have a plan to go back,” Erik snapped. “I just don’t want to, yet.”

“Intrigued by my charming personality?”

Erik huffed. “You wish.”

“Too bad,” Logan sighed. “Hell’s really gotten lonely after a few couple of centuries, you know.”

He sat up after a moment. “Could I… can I ask you to stay a bit? Only for a little while. I’ll even… Turn around for a sec. I won’t hurtcha, promise.”

Wary, Erik did as he was told. Logan didn’t feel like somebody who’d kill him in cold blood. If he ever decided to, he’d do it while looking Erik straight in the eye. Coming to think of that, that might be why he’d ended up in hell, instead of dying as a knight of virtue. The bonds around his wrists came undone. Erik rolled out his aching shoulders.

“Thank you.” He could feel his face heat up. He could barely resist the urge to close his hand around the crystal to assure himself it was still there. 

“Sorry for tying you up in the first place.”

Erik shrugged. He didn’t mind. He’d have done the same in the situation, probably. “Can’t ever be too sure.”

“Right.” Logan sighed. “Talking about the right thing. I know I asked you to stay, but… you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. There’s demons everywhere. This place isn’t just called hell, it is hell. And you… you don’t belong. You have a choice. So leave. Right now. Or do I need to make you?”

“Haven’t found what I came here for,” Erik mumbled, tugging at the crystal now after all. “Can’t leave without it.”

“All you’ll ever find here’s death. And dead. And demons. And pain. There’s nothing here. No treasure, no magic weapons, nothing.” Logan grabbed Erik’s wrist and pulled his hand away from the crystal. He took it in his other hand to take a better look. “That’s your way out, huh? Smart. One time only, though.”

“You can’t have it.” Erik snatched the crystal back. He could feel it warm up. The spell had been triggered and would run its course soon. Logan was forcing him to leave. “Fuck you.”

“It wouldn’t work on me anyway. Get back to the world of the living, princeling.”

“Erik,” Erik said, closing his eyes against the bright light erupting from the crystal. “It’s Erik, you bastard.”

When the glow dimmed and he opened his eyes, he was back at the attic. Erik slammed his fists on the wooden floor with a curse.

~*~

For the first couple of days back, Erik was hiding from his mother and very definitely not sulking. She’d had a fit when he’d reappeared after she had the entire castle searched top to bottom and he’d still remained missing. She’d yelled at him, she’d reproached him, she’d forced him to get cleaned up because he smelled like foul eggs and then she’d made him sit through an entire week’s worth of possible suitors. Every last one of the princesses had been so bland it could only have been achieved through breeding and refinement from birth, all personality, all edges sanded off by strict upbringing and stricter tutors. It made it all that harder not to sneak off to the library every free moment to find out more about Logan, or James, or whatever nickname the books were using.

Erik couldn’t get him out of his head and that alone was souring his mood. It didn’t help that it looked like the history section of the royal library had been ridded of all mentions of James the Wolverine, aside from calling him a traitor to King Magnus who had been punished for his betrayal. Every time Erik tried to sneak off into the deeper sections of the library, some page or servant would find him within minutes with orders from his mother that he had to attend any urgent matter she could come up with.

After two weeks of trying to find anything of use, Erik gave up. At least, he gave up searching during the day. He’d grown up guarded at all time, he knew how to sneak out of his suite of rooms and down into any wing of the castle unnoticed. He didn’t dare light a candle until he’d reached the library, but once there, he wasn’t sure where to look. First, he tried the magic books again like he had planned, but none of the books mentioned any curse that would send someone to live in hell for eternity. He did find mentions of a ring once belonging to King Magnus, that was lost in time and would bring another golden age about once recovered. Not terribly useful, since Erik wasn’t planning on looking for it, but interesting enough to note down.

The next night, after he was finished with the magic section, he spent looking for the diaries of former rulers. His parents and tutors had always brought him choice volumes of those to read, but he’d never been allowed to read them without supervision. In his opinion, his mother should have been delighted he was taking an interest in his heritage but since she didn’t know, she mostly commented on the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

It took Erik another two nights to find the sealed off side room where the diaries were stored. The entire room, not bigger than a guest bedroom, was covered in bookcases, every wall, from floor to ceiling. There was only half a case left empty, to be filled by Erik and his successors. The last book before the empty space was his father’s diary, ending with the last day of the past year. For a moment, Erik hesitated. Reading his father’s diary while he was still alive… No, as curious as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He wrenched himself away from the temptation and instead started searching for the beginning. As far as he knew, Magnus had not left any diaries behind. There were mentions of stories in other, later people’s diaries, some who’d known King Magnus in his life, some who’d heard them handed down in the generations. Erik had been forced to read some of them. He picked one he remembered from the bottom of the earliest bookshelf. Then, he started to look more thoroughly, going up the years, checking the names in the front of the books until he recognized one. King Magnus himself hadn’t left a diary behind, but his knights had, aside from Logan, and his queen and his heir had, too. Erik passed on the knights’ battle reports and tall tales of feasts and courtly love. But the two queens’ diaries he took from the shelf as well. It were only five slim volumes in total, all written in the tiny neat script Erik recognized from ancient treaties and laws. The ink was faded but still legible. Once he was king, Erik swore to himself, he’d have the older books copied. And then he’d pay for any alchemist who could help him conserve the books better.

The books under his arm, he snuck back to his room, settling into bed to read by candlelight.

The newer book was boring, in the way that it held no information that could capture Erik’s attention. The knight who’d written it, who’d been a page at King Magnus’ court, knighted by Queen Wanda and then served as a sage after her passing, had some second hand knowledge of most of what had happened before the realm’s founding, but no details on who he called the traitorous vermin knight. Erik smirked at the not that clever nickname. It was about the one good thing he could pull from the diary.

He fell asleep the moment he blew out the candle and set down the diary.

The next morning, he took Queen Wanda’s diaries and snuck out of the castle at first light, letting the major domus know he was taking a walk in the forest and would be back for supper but probably not earlier. If his mother had plans for him, he wouldn’t make it easy for her to find him. Especially not when she was narrowing down the number of suitable princesses to a worrying degree.

Erik found himself a nice, dry stone at the foot of a tree. There was a brook running nearby, a cave in case it started to rain, and nothing but birds singing in the treetops. The latter was important to warn him of people searching for him. He settled down and began to read.

Queen Wanda’s diaries were nothing like the knight’s. For one, Erik immediately started to like the woman. She’d secured what her father had built, against opposition from within and without the realm. She’d brought wealth to the kingdom, through clever treaties and innovation. Reading her debate her course of action and then, a couple of pages later, see her rejoice at the outcome of a particularly smart plan was a delight. She didn’t write about her father at all in the first volume Erik read, but he still read it from start to finish. He was starting to realize that he had an ancestry he could aspire to, not just a mother he desperately wanted to please if she’d only let him.

The second volume mentioned King Magnus a couple of times, mostly in the form of memories of him as a distant father. It also mentioned the ring again that had been lost and how Queen Wanda still grieved her father and mother in private, not able to grief in public for fear it would be seen as a weakness. She also described the ring and its use in a magic rite at great length, near the end of the volume. She’d even drawn the magic circle used and a precise list of items necessary for it. Erik copied that part to his notes, taking care to be just as exact as the queen had been centuries ago. The rite was said to double the harvest of the coming year if performed on a specific day. Queen Wanda had been doubtful and had added some practical tips on how to use superstition in tandem with pragmatism to achieve the same results without the ring. Erik copied those as well.

The final volume was sealed shut. Erik could open the cover, front and back, but the pages wouldn’t yield no matter how he pulled at them. He finally gave in to the instructions on the first page and dripped a drop of his blood on the seal to prove he was of the queen’s line. To his surprise, it worked, despite the centuries between them.

This book was far more personal than the other two. She described her affairs, the consorts she took, the man she eventually married when she was sure she could keep the throne despite that. She described her mother and her brother and sister, small, everyday interactions with them. She talked about her father and her worries for him, how she never saw him smile in his later years, how he seemed to be full of regret by the time he passed. She also described being a child, playing not just with her siblings, but also her father’s favorite knight and friend, James. Whenever she mentioned him in the diary, she didn’t sound full of venom and hate as all the mentions of James Erik had read before had done. Queen Wanda had been fond of her “uncle” James, had loved him like a real uncle. She’d been desperate when he’d disappeared, unconsolable even. For weeks, she described nothing but her search, her questions, how her father was slowly turning to stone inside after James disappeared.

It didn’t answer any of Erik’s questions and, worse, only added a whole bunch more.

It was late by the time Erik finished the volume. Her sadness was catching and he was lost in thought all the way back to the castle. Lucky for him, there were no dangers this close to the castle. His mother gave him a disapproving look and the silent treatment when he arrived. Erik did apologize to her for running off, but didn’t promise to never do it again. Before dinner, Erik made sure Queen Wanda’s bust in the ancestral gallery was well cared for.

After dinner—Erik’s mother had invited _three_ princesses he was supposed to be nice to—Erik started to read the final two volumes, the diaries of Magnus’ wife, Queen Magda. She mostly wrote about her husband, but also of how she stewarded their household, how she supervised the building of the castle with two small children while her husband and his men were away fighting battle after battle. She’d made notes on how her children grew. There were short letters from King Magnus stuck between pages, missives from yet another battle, from yet another night spent apart from his family. When he finally returned to the newly finished castle, the joy Queen Magda had felt sang from every line. But soon, the tone changed again. She was suspecting King Magnus to have an affair he was keeping from her. She confronted him but didn’t believe his assurances that he would do nothing to endanger her or their children. 

Finally, for the first time, she mentioned James, using his full title and then went on: “Logan, my husband calls him. My husband is the only one to call him such. Always, they stick together. I am afeared he is the one to hold my beloved’s heart. Tomorrow, I shall confront him.”

Erik turned the page with shaking fingers, terrified of what he might read next, terrified he would tear the page, too.

“I have made a terrible mistake. My dear husband flew into a rage when I accused him. He summoned Sir James before us. When he repeated my accusations to Sir James and demanded a denial from him, Sir James remained silent. That only kindled my Magnus’ rage. I knew then that I had been wrong but it could not be undone. My husband cursed Sir James. He demanded him to renounce his love and when Sir James would not, my husband cursed him with all his might. _Never,_ my husband spoke, _shall you walk this earth again until the day comes one of my own gives you their heart._ There was a terrible magic wind as he spoke. It snuffed the fire. It pulled at Sir James. Sir James reached out for my husband, but then the ground opened and Sir James was pulled in. I fear my husband has done something unforgivable. I fear he will never overcome the regret once his rage has burned down. What, oh what, shall I tell the children? They loved him so. I loved him so, before the jealousy drove me to accuse my Magnus. This mistake might be our undoing, but I pray it will not be.”

Erik wiped at his eyes. He felt terribly for Logan. Betrayed by his own best friend, for daring to love him without even acting on it. Erik clutched at his shirt, his heart heavy in his chest. 

The only time Logan was mentioned after was on the day after King Magnus’ death. Queen Magda had written: “My husband died with a broken heart. I tried to mend it as best as I could, but I fear failed him in the end. It was his own fault and yet, I cannot help but feel saddened. I can only hope that death will grant him a chance to set things right.”

Only death hadn’t. Erik frowned down at the page. He closed the diary and leaned back. He had a lot to think about now.

By the time a servant appeared under orders from his mother to make him go to bed and remind him to stay there, he still hadn’t thought everything through. He found himself lying awake, staring at the dark baldachin above. When sleep finally came, he dreamed of hell and Logan and Queen Wanda and the golden ring. But the next morning, all that remained of the dreams were the memory of the fortuneteller’s words.

He knew then that he would return to hell and free Logan, if that was at all in his power. Getting to hell was the simple part of his non-existent plan. However, once there, he would also have to find Logan. Last time, Logan had found him, but he didn’t want to count on that happening again. He had not forgotten about the demons Logan had mentioned and had no desire meeting even one of those. So, as he returned the diaries to their rightful place, ignoring the disapproving look of the servant following him around on his mother’s orders, he took the time looking through books written by the occasional court mages for a finding spell. The one he found that would work for him, one that only needed to hold the person you were looking for in your thoughts while you used it, was only slightly complicated beyond that. The necessary tools could be found around the castle and in the herb garden. 

Once he’d gathered everything, he sat through tea with the three princesses his mother subtly told him he would have to choose from soon, making bland conversation with them while his mother shot him the occasional reprimanding look. As soon as he was safe to extract himself, he snuck back into his room to set up the portable locating spell.

Drawing up the portal to hell was easier the second time around. Erik didn’t even bother to hide in the attic this time. Instead, he pushed the furniture in the sitting room out of the way and rolled the carpet up. Before he set out to draw on his sitting room floor, he wrote his mother a quick note, promising he would be back and that they would settle the question of his marriage once he was.

This time, the portal didn’t lead him into a hollow in the barren wastelands. Instead, Erik found himself standing in front of a stone tower. The air was filled with shrieks and smelled strongly of rotten eggs. It was worse than he remembered the place to be. He had to find Logan and get out again as fast as he could. 

A couple of steps away from the ominous tower, he triggered the location spell. It manifested as a dim white ball of light flying off for Erik to follow. Once a little ways off, it started to hover in place, clearly waiting. Erik followed it in a trott, occasionally looking back at the tower.

To his relief the locating spell was headed straight away from the tower. Whatever it was that made him uneasy about the tower, it wasn’t better to have it at his back. He clutched his sword in a tight grip. Only gradually, he relaxed. The spell was picking up speed once he wasn’t waiting to be attacked at every moment. Still, it took it quite a while before its goal became visible. The spell, and therefore Erik, was headed to a looming mountain range. The peaks looked almost like teeth from the distance. They were much darker than any mountain Erik had ever seen, almost black, and shining like polished glass. They were only marginally better a goal to be headed towards than the tower. Erik grabbed his sword so tight his knuckles turned white.

The spell stopped at the mouth of a dark cave and flew in circles until Erik reached it. He drew his sword and took a deep breath before slowly walking into the cave. The spell’s behavior probably meant Logan was inside the cave, but he couldn’t be sure he would be alone. This didn’t look like Logan’s home. It didn’t smell like it either, a wind full of ash and sulphur blowing out from the cave. He didn’t have a choice though. If he wanted to find Logan, there was no other way but forward.

The cave wasn’t as quiet as Erik had expected. There were shrieks and horrible groans. But the path was clear. The spell was following Erik now, lighting his way. Eventually, the cave opened up into a cavern. Red hot fires lit the space. It was almost unbearably hot. Erik tugged at the neck of his shirt, loosening it ever so slightly. He didn’t dare to move. There, right in the middle of the cavern, with its back hopefully turned to Erik, was the most horrific creature he had ever seen, awake or in any nightmare. It was groaning. From one second to the next, it moved with a high pitched shriek. Something else moved, too, making the shriek turn even higher as it cut the creature in a flash of steel.

The creature stumbled for a moment but caught itself. With another cry, it extended its claws. The movements turned into a flurry. Erik could hear it clash against metal, again and again. And then suddenly, it stopped. The creature went silent. Still. Then, terrifyingly slow, it fell over, hitting the ground with a sickening smack.

Logan gave the dead creature another kick.

Erik cleared his throat, as much to wet it as to draw attention to himself.

Logan whipped around, jumping at Erik without any visible thought. He did realize what he was doing while in the air and tried to turn his body around. He hit Erik with his shoulder, sending them both to the ground. Erik’s sword clattered away uselessly. Logan was holding him down, metal claws like daggers touching but not piercing the skin on Erik’s neck.

Logan drew in a deep breath through his nose.

“Didn’t I tell you to get lost?” Logan growled. “This is no place for you, princeling. Why did you return?”

“Was that.. a demon?” Erik pressed out, ignoring Logan’s questions.

“A damn ugly one, yeah.” Logan eased off a little. The claws disappeared into his hand.

Erik starred in fascination.”Were you always able to do that?”

“Huh?” Logan followed Erik’s gaze and shrugged. “Kinda? But they changed from… well, they used to be bone. It’s a damn shame, because they’d have gone well with the whole theme of this place.”

Erik shook his head. He looked away so Logan couldn’t see the laugh he was fighting to suppress.

“You’re not afraid of it, are you?”

Erik cleared his throat. He flexed his right hand, reaching out for his sword with some concentration. He relaxed when he had the hilt firmly back in his grip. “I’m not if you’re not.”

“Wha-” Logan had to do a double take. “Not afraid, no.”

“I came for you,” Erik confessed. He reached up with his free hand. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, all alone in this place, for centuries. And when I learned of the conditions of your curse, I had to come back.”  
Logan’s eyes widening in shock as he put his hand to his cheek was the last thing he saw before Erik closed his eyes and kissed him. He was ready to open his heart to this man who he’d known for only a couple of hours and page after page of second hand recollections. However, if they managed to leave hell like this, they’d have a lifetime to make up for it.

There was a strange pulling sensation when Logan started to respond to the kiss. Erik kept his eyes firmly closed. His stomach felt like it was twisting in funny ways, but all he could think of was Logan’s rough stubble against his palm, his soft lips and wet tongue on his mouth.

When he blinked his eyes open, after Logan had broken the kiss, he was lying on hard wooden floor in a sunlit room. Slowly, the world came back into focus around him. He could hear the birds sing outside. The sun was warm. The air wasn’t choking. It still smelled of sulphur, but that might just be the smell clinging to their clothes and hair.

Erik laughed. It had worked, it had actually worked.

“Where…?”

“Uhm, my bedroom.” Erik could feel heat rising in his cheeks. “I believe I should have invited you for tea and an endless string of long conversations first. But… well, we’re here already. That has to be some breach of every single rule of courtly protocol.”

Logan stared at him. “You’re rambling,” he finally concluded.

“I’m centuries younger than you, I’m allowed to be nervous about this!” Erik let go of his sword so he could push against Logan’s chest. The fumbling led to another sting of breathless kissing. Erik didn’t want to push Logan away after that anymore.

“So, we’re back?” Logan asked, wonder in his voice. He’d moved them around a little so Erik was now lying pressed to his side and he was able to pet his hair. Erik enjoyed the unfamiliar touch, so he didn’t protest. “I thought I’d only…”

“Well, I am a descendant of Queen Wanda and another spell already confirmed that, so I had to try. The chances were good enough that the curse would accept me, too.”

“Right. But why?”

“As I said. I couldn’t get you out of my head. And… I’m willing to try. On one condition.” Lying on the floor as they were, Erik could hear the steps on the hall outside.

“You. You went to hell and brought me back. Because of…” Logan swallowed thickly. “You could name any price you want.”

“Get engaged to me. I won’t ask for marriage. For now. We can talk about marriage later. Stay here. Let me get to know you. Get to know me. And if, after everything, we decide it’s not going to work, you can still walk away and see how much the world has changed.” Erik was speaking quickly now. The steps had stopped at the door to his rooms and then hurried off. They didn’t have much time before his mother would storm in and there was no force in the world to stop her. “Please?”

“You do know you look a lot like someone I once loved very dearly?” Logan’s voice was coming out thick with emotion.

“Yeah. Can you accept that I’m not?”

“I was cursed and banished.”

“But you were a good man. People who knew you held you dear. I think that’s more than I could ask for.” Erik sighed. “All the princesses introduced to me were so very bland. At least, you’ll be anything but.”

Logan guffawed. “Sure. I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Erik pressed a last kiss to Logan’s cheek before getting up. He dusted his clothes off. They’d landed in his chalk portal and he was probably never getting the stains out without help, or at least a rug beater. His mother would be livid. Not as livid, though, as she would be to find him rolling around the floor with a stranger. Sensibly, Erik settled into an armchair to wait for the inevitable.

Logan was curiously looking around the room and at the windows while they waited. 

They didn’t have to wait long. As predicted, Erik’s mother pushed the door open without even a courtesy knock. She narrowed her eyes at Erik, before she noticed that he wasn’t alone. Surprise washed over her features before she got herself back under control and settled on an expression of curious displeasure.

“Where,” she demanded. “Have you been, Erik? And who’s your new… friend?”

Logan swept into a perfect bow. “My name is Logan, your Majesty.”

For a brief moment, Erik’s mother looked almost pleased at his display of manners. “Rise, then, Logan. I trust my son has been courteous so far?”

Logan’s expression was a perfect mask. “Perfectly. We were just discussing a strategy.”

“A strategy?” Intrigued, Erik’s mother settled in the other armchair. Logan took that as his go ahead to stand next to Erik and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Indeed,” Erik confirmed. He was more than grateful for the hand on his shoulder. “Mother, I wish to marry Logan, if possible.”

“I don’t own land, or title worthy of your son, your Majesty.” Logan patted his pockets and then took out a small golden object which he handed to Erik’s mother. “This is all I can offer.”

Erik’s mother gasped as she examined the object. When she held it into the light, Erik could see it was a ring. He leaned to the side so he could whisper at Logan: “Is this… that ring? Magnus’...?”

Logan nodded. He was tense as Erik’s mother was looking over the carvings in the ring. She no doubt recognized it as well. Her fingers shook slightly as she handed it back. “This is more than adequate to balance your lack of meaningful title, Sir Logan,” she said. Her gaze settled on Erik. “Your mind is set, isn’t it?” she asked softly. “I can tell. Your heart’s set, too. Who am I to stand in your way. But!” She held up a finger. “Sir Logan will be staying in his own room. I expect you both down for dinner.” She rose gracefully. “Welcome to this castle, Sir Logan.” She extended her hand for Logan, who kissed it with another bow.

“I think you impressed her,” Erik confided after she’d left. He felt like something heavy had slipped off his shoulders. “Good thing you pulled that ring off Magnus’ hand when he cursed you.”

“How do you know?” Logan sounded mostly curious.

“Queen Magda wrote about it in her diary.”

“Ah.” Logan offered his hand and pulled Erik to his feet when he accepted. “Would you show me around the castle?”

“With pleasure.”


End file.
